Elegy
by Shimizu Hitomi
Summary: [IN PROGRESS] Mangaverse, slightly AU, alternate ending. Let the ring of clashing metal and hum of our weapons swinging through the air sing an elegy for the death of Time.
1. Tremors Arc: Sephiria 1

**Disclaimer: Black Cat isn't mine.**

**Summary: **Slightly AU (alternate ending). Let the ring of clashing metal and hum of our weapons swinging through the air sing an elegy for the death of Time.  
**Pairings:** Various. (Janus/Rins is the obvious one. There will be others as well.)  
**Rating:** T.

**Notes: **I've been thinking ever since this series ended (as a manga -- I'm not even going to start on how much I detest the anime) that it had a whole lot of potential... But never quite lived up to it. Starting from about where River was introduced, the story just kind of... deteriorated. Started to lack any real depth, and turned into the standard shounen manga succession of fight scenes with only a weak plot to tie it all together. (Well, I think it started a little before River, but it was still tolerable at that point.) It was disappointing, anyway. Imho, Yabuki should have just stuck to the characters/concepts he had already introduced and actually developed them properly, rather than introducing more and more random minor canon-fodder type characters even as the series drew closer to its end. The ending itself was, I feel, too rushed, with revelations coming far too quickly one after another and again not given sufficient development.

SO. First off, I am only following the storyline from River onward very loosely. Also, I took liberties in creating my own backstory for Chronos and the Numbers system and Sephiria (and other "side characters"). So while this fic is actually a natural continuation from where the manga left off (and goes in a direction I would have expected Yabuki to take the story in if it weren't for the fact that his main character is _Train_, who is totally carefree and all blah whatever), you will notice that there are a few significant deviations from canon for post-River events. Sort of an alternate ending I guess. But yes, if you haven't realized already, I'm going solely by manga canon. The anime can go... Ahem. Yeah. (HATE the anime-verse.)

Final note: I am going by artbook spellings except when I don't know them or they hurt my eyes. (i.e. janus over jenos to keep the mythological reference intact, and xiaoli over shaolee to keep proper pinyin standards)

* * *

**Elegy  
**_Chapter One  
(Sephiria)_

As the flaming leaves of autumn came drifting down past her window one bitter gray morning, Sephiria Arks thought suddenly of change. The thought frightened her for a moment, terrified her more than she had ever been in her life. And so she pushed the thought aside.

She could not afford to fear.

She could not afford to doubt.

She headed towards the training room and splashed cold water over her face before drawing her saber. Christ. It was a beautiful sword, though she had always found its name ironic. _Christ, the Savior._ Hardly anyone remembered the old stories anymore. Chronos discouraged the practice of religion, though even they did not dare to try and abolish it completely. The aged churches stood still in the older sections of the cities, quaint little buildings made of stone and lined with stained glass. Even a few synagogues and mosques and even temples had been erected over the years, hidden away behind skyscrapers and bustling streets.

Sephiria herself had no use for religion. She knew its terrible power, and she had no use for power.

But she had always loved the old stories.

She stood for a moment, unmoving. It was as if all time had stopped. She felt the utter dark stillness of the room, the crisp morning air and the drops of water on her skin like a thousand icy daggers, the coarse material of her uniform rubbing against her chest. Forget, she breathed. Forget. When she opened her eyes again her mind was blank, and Christ sliced through the air in one swift motion as she stepped into her daily _kata_. Her wounds had been deep, vicious; the lingering stiffness of her limbs a testament to her near death. She could not afford to relax, to lose focus, not now.

But the Thought soon returned, in full force. It refused to leave her. It was like a weed that had suddenly taken root in her mind, that could not be destroyed.

No. The seeds had been sown long ago, taken root in years and years past within the dark recesses of her heart. This she could not deny.

And it terrified her.

She stopped abruptly. "Good morning."

She heard him shift slightly, as if startled out of a silent reverie.

"Mm."

He was always there. Every morning, without fail, standing by respectfully, watching, waiting for her to finish before he began his own warm-up. There had been a time when his silent observation made her uncomfortable, but that was many years ago now. Today, his presence gave her comfort, reminding her of her duty, her responsibility.

"Has there been news, Belze?" Her voice was cool and soft as water, rippling gently across the silence.

"There have been no new developments," came his deeper, chocolate-smooth reply. "Number Seven has everything under control."

She said nothing, instead sifting quietly through her thoughts until they finally slowed to a trickle.

"The Elders will be pleased."

There was a slight pause before Belze said, "Yes. Number Seven has performed excellently in recent affairs."

Sephiria sheathed her saber and turned at last to face him. "I think I shall stop here today. Thank you."

His face was as impassive and unreadable as ever as she strode out the door.

- - -

As she stepped into her bathroom and began stripping, she caught a glimpse of the angry red slash running from under her left breast across to her hip like a bright, shredded ribbon. For a while she gazed at her reflection in the mirror, contemplating the web of scars crisscrossing her pale skin, running her fingers over her most recent acquisitions. Then she stepped into the shower and turned on the water, holding back a gasp as the icy stream hit her body.

She washed quickly, tugging out the tangles in her hair with her fingers. She had kept it short as a girl, but as she had grown older she had come to have a certain pride in her hair, wild and inconvenient as it was. It was the one single vanity she allowed herself. Most days she reasoned that it gave her a quiet air of femininity that led others to underestimate her, giving her even that small advantage over them; other days she thought to herself that it was a true mark of her skill, that even with the added encumbrance she remained the strongest fighter of them all. But she knew that neither was the true reason.

The whim had come upon her one day, as she watched the sheet of pale yellow hair resting upon Belze's back as she had watched it for years, a sudden desire to just toss back her head and feel silky flowing strands whispering against her shoulders...

They worried and frightened her, these sudden urges and rare bursts of fancy.

"This is different," she told her reflection as she dried herself off with a towel. "I have brushed against Death; I have been changed. I doubt because it is only natural to doubt. This soon will pass."

Her hand brushed against the tattooed number on her forehead, and she dressed slowly, carefully, before beginning to blow-dry her hair.

There was a knock on her door and she slipped out of the bathroom, barefoot and hair still half wet.

It was Belze. She opened the door.

His eyes rested for a brief moment on her hair before flickering back to her face. "We've lost contact with Number Seven. The Elders have summoned you."

Her hand clenched slightly. She turned to grab her boots and her sword. "How bad is it?"

"The reports from the backup team are vague. Most of them seem to be preoccupied with damage control at the moment. It is unclear exactly what has happened... He was fine just an hour ago."

Sephiria stood and joined him in the hallway, sword at her side. "I shouldn't have sent him alone."

Belze did not reply immediately. "You could not have foreseen that things would escalate to this point."

"Something must have set off the crowd," she murmured.

"Even the most trivial thing can trigger a mob. It may not be anything serious."

She shook her head. "There have been too many riots lately, Belze..."

They walked in silence for a few moments.

"Creed --" Belze began, hesitatingly.

She stopped. Belze turned and looked at her.

"Creed is dead," she said. "His organization is scattered to the winds, and he is dead."

She felt his large strong hand, curiously gentle, upon her shoulder, and looked up. But he had turned again already, waiting for her to follow.

She stepped forward and settled back into her position at his side as they continued wordlessly down the hallway to the conference room.

- - -

Dinner was a quiet affair. She picked at her rice alone in her room, having asked to have her food sent up instead of eating at the restaurant she usually frequented.

The Elders had demanded that she send another Number in, but she had demurred, reminding them that the appearance of another Time Guardian would further inflame an already delicate situation. But the truth was, even if she wanted to, she had no one to send. Belga was dead and had yet to be replaced; Nizer remained yet in a coma. Xiaoli, who would have normally been her top choice, was already handling affairs elsewhere, and Baldor and Kranz were hardly a viable option for such a mission requiring tact and discretion above all else.

That left the four Quarters, none of whom she was particularly eager to move, and the obvious choice of Belze.

Belze was perfectly suited for the job. He was a skilled fighter and a smooth diplomat, dependable. But most of all, he was a man with presence -- unlike Janus, who was charming but lacked steadiness, or Xiaoli, who was effeminate and quiet and invisible.

_Let them spend their anger_, she had said. _Let the turbulence simmer down on its own. The mob is like a force of nature; we can do nothing but wait it out. Our interference will only make the pot boil over. Number Seven is capable of handling this on his own._

It had been a lie, and she knew it, and perhaps they knew it too. It was true that there was nothing they could do short of imposing strict martial law on the area for a few weeks, but there were other cities, other regions to worry about as well. If they did nothing soon, the entire situation would spiral completely out of control.

The Elders were not fond of crises.

As she sipped at her tea she thought of the broken heads of Cerberus, the dead lion and the sleeping wolf; of Janus, loyal and puppy-dog eager, whose condition was now unknown.

And then she stood, leaving her food half eaten on the coffee table, moved to her desk, and sent out a summons to Belze.

_**Tsuzuku**_

* * *

I have chosen to concentrate on Sephiria in this story rather than Train and co. For one thing, Sephiria is my favorite character (in fact, a year ago this was originally going to be a Sephiria-centric one-shot, but...) and I absolutely hate the anime's take on her; the anime characterizations are ridiculously exaggerated. I'm probably the only fan out there who feels this way so I'll shut up now. :D Also, obviously most people (are going to) write about Train anyway, since he's the main character. No need for me to add even more. However, I will be writing this story probably from three POVs (possibly even one or two more): Sephiria, Rins, and Eve. (Girl power:P) So Train and co. definitely will have big parts to play. 

Probably the most important reason Train's not the main character here though is that, well, Train just doesn't give a damn about Chronos. Without Creed, he has no motivation to have anything at all to do with Chronos. Not very helpful for a Die-Chronos-Die story. Sephiria, on the other hand, is perfectly positioned for such a tale...

Speaking of Creed: Yes, he's dead. Having him be alive would bring in a whole other layer of complexity to my already screwy plot. However, the reverberations of his attempted revolution will definitely continue to be felt throughout the story. What exactly happened in that final Train/Creed confrontation in my universe though will be revealed later.


	2. Tremors Arc: Rinslet 1

**Disclaimer applies.**

**Notes: **First, I'd like to say thank you to all those who've been reading/supportive of this fic so far! I was sincerely surprised to find more than one person interested in this fic, when I hadn't expected an audience at all... So THANK YOU! It makes me happy. :D

And now, dropping right into the scene of action...

* * *

**Elegy  
**_Chapter Two  
(Rinslet)_

Rinslet Walker, thief-for-hire, was not having a good day.

Early that morning, on a lonely stretch of road on the way to the location of her next target, her car had broken down for mysterious reasons. Rins, being what could be termed a "car person" only to the extent of cooing over sleek convertibles and cute little Beetles, had kicked the damn thing in hopes that it would somehow respond, breaking off the heel of her shoe in the process. When it became apparent that all her cursing would neither revive the car nor get her where she wanted to be (or even glue her heel back on), she plopped down on the hood of the car in vague hopes that someone might pass by and offer a ride to a lovely young damsel-in-distress such as herself.

No such luck.

Not a terribly patient person to begin with, Rins finally had her last straw when an hour later, a dusty old truck came sputtering past -- _without even slowing down_.

Deciding that she absolutely would _not_ stand for this any longer, Rins grabbed her suitcase and purse from the back of the car, slammed the door shut, and began limping down the road, wishing she had thought to bring more practical shoes.

It was nearing high noon now, and despite the season, the sun still blazed hot in a cloudless sky. Sweaty, tired, and hungry, Rins swore to herself that she would personally beat up the bastard at the rental agency who'd rented her the car, as soon as she got back. After a shower and a meal at the next town.

If she ever got to the next town.

Were there even _any_ towns in this place?

At least the heel of her other shoe had broken off too, by now, making for easier walking. After all, Rinslet believed in thinking positive.

Except when she was pissed.

She kicked at a rock and watched it skid across the dusty road. And then suddenly, she caught sight of the broken sign hanging by the side of the road. A slight feeling of hope ignited. She trudged over with more energy than she'd thought she had left.

"Town of Lork. Population, twenty thousand. Five miles," she read.

She stared in disbelief.

"... Aww, _shit_!"

She continued staring at the sign for a few more seconds, hoping her eyes were deceiving her.

And then she sighed and ran a hand through her hair.

"Well, damn," she murmured. "But it looks like I don't have a choice."

- - -

Lork, at first glance, was nothing like she remembered. The town had grown through the years, slowly, but surely. The first few buildings as she walked into town were charming and quaint, painted crisply in pleasant pastels. One of them, from the sign outside, was a cafe, which Rins gratefully stumbled into.

No one else was inside but a tired-looking woman behind the counter, who gave her a funny look (surely she didn't look _that_ awful in her current sweaty, tousled state?), and a man with thinning, sandy hair sitting in the corner and muttering in a morose, almost bored tone, "Ah do hate pepper. Ah really do."

Rins ordered an iced mocha, then collapsed into one of the chairs, sipping contentedly with her suitcase at her side.

"Things sure have changed around here," she said after a while, to no one in particular. "I mean, was it always this quiet before?"

The town had always been more dead than alive, but still, in her memories, it had been anything _but_ quiet. Perhaps she had merely grown too used to the noise and bustle of the big city. She hadn't been back _here_ in years, after all. And yet still, she remembered -- the streets at this time in the afternoon had always been filled with people: gossiping neighbors, laughing children...

She realized then what had felt so off when she'd first arrived.

Today, the streets were empty, with a pervasive silence that reminded her of the intense calm right before a mission.

Or a battle.

"Ain't the place that changed, missy," drawled the woman behind the counter. "It's the people changed. Young people nowadays, there ain't nothin' can satisfy them. They all want what they can't get, and when they do it's never nothin' like they've expected. Anythin' bad happens to them, they blame it on everyone but themselves. Anythin' bad happens to anyone else, well, hell, they musta deserved it! They've grown mean, they have. There ain't nothin' but a loada hate in this town these days."

Rins pondered the woman' words, then slowly shook her head. "No... it's always been there, I think. The meanness, and the wanting."

_And the hate_, she added mentally, except it wasn't something she liked to admit.

The woman snorted. "Well, they sure hid it a damn lot better than they do now."

Rins frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Times've always been hard in these parts, missy. All ah can say is, you sure picked a damn helluva time to drop by."

"What's going on --" Rins began, but before she could finish, the sound of shattering glass drew her attention to the window as she leapt to her feet, drink forgotten.

A gathering of about twenty young men and women stood in the street outside, throwing rocks.

"You damn Chronos-supportin' fools!"

"Yeah, you old hag! Which one a' the mayor's brothers was it you been fuckin' lately?"

"'Cause we jus' gone and stoned 'em all!"

Laughter.

As a particularly large rock whizzed past her head, Rinslet felt a sudden surge of anger.

"You assholes!" she yelled. "Cut it out!"

One of the girls outside hooted. "Oho! One a' the city bitches come down to play!"

"Get lost, city bitch! This ain't no place for you!" cackled a young man as he tossed another stone through the window.

In the corner, the sandy-haired man continued to mutter about pepper ("Makes me sneeze, all the time. Always makes me sneeze --"), but Rinslet did not notice. She reached into her purse, trembling with rage, not really thinking. But then she tensed. She had heard the unmistakable click of a safety catch being released.

"Get the hell outta here," said the woman behind the counter, coolly pointing a shotgun at the steadily increasing crowd outside. "Ah'm runnin' a business here."

The crowd shifted and fell silent, eyeing the shotgun uneasily.

Rins stared, somewhat relieved, but did not move her hand from her purse.

"Get the hell outta here," repeated the woman. "This place ain't got nothin' to do with Chronos or your crap."

Angry muttering. Rinslet could feel the waves of fury sweeping over her, and she shivered. Memories of crazed laughter echoed through her mind...

_It's like Creed all over again_, she thought wildly, though the crowd outside was nothing like what Creed Diskenth and his followers had been.

They stood there, locked in a stalemate for what seemed like ages, but must have really only been minutes.

There was a sudden shout. Rins saw that two conspicuously armed policemen and a few men in dark suits and sunglasses had appeared, shoving through the crowd.

"Police! Break it up!"

Those who had been throwing rocks were swiftly arrested and cuffed, as well as a few others. Most of the stragglers who had been watching at the edge took the chance to run or slink away.

One of the policemen came in through the door.

He nodded a greeting at Rins, who was feeling more than a little overwhelmed, and approached the woman at the counter.

"Sorry, ma'am, but ah'm gonna hafta arrest you too --"

The sharp report of a gun.

Exactly what happened next, Rinslet would never be certain. Screaming, shouts, more gunshots --

The only thought that ran through her mind that instant was "_Run_."

And run she did.

Pushing, shoving, sweat and blood and dust -- where had all these people _come _from? -- she tripped and scraped her knees on the pavement and climbed up again and continued running, until at last she found herself in a quiet, dark alley.

She paused, shaking, gasping for breath.

A whistle. "Wow, you look like you've been running a marathon, Rins-babe!"

She grabbed her gun from her purse and whirled around.

There weren't many things (people) about which (whom) Rinslet didn't know _what_ to think.

Train Heartnet, former Chronos Time Guardian No. XIII and current Sweeper, was one of them.

Janus Hazard, Chronos Time Guardian No. VII, was another.

She did know one thing about Janus, though: of all the people she had ever met, he was the one who got on her nerves most easily.

"What the hell are _you_ doing here?" she exploded.

She hadn't expected she would ever meet him again. Certainly not in _this_ place, under _these_ conditions.

He grinned apologetically. "Actually, I was just wondering the same thing of you! Surely there's nothing worth stealing in a dinky backwater town like this for a thief of your caliber? Although, I have to say..." He ogled openly at her heaving breasts. "I kinda like you with the hot and sweaty look."

Any other time and she would have smacked the perverted look clean off his face. But this time, she did not even deign to reply.

For one thing, she had noticed that he too was looking rather disheveled. His face was scratched and dirty, and his usual dandy black suit was ripped in several places.

"Janus, just what the _hell_ is going on?"

He opened his mouth, then eyed the gun in her hand (which was still pointed steadily at him) rather apprehensively. "Uh, can we maybe do it without the gun?"

Rins obligingly tucked the pistol back into her purse.

"I'm not really too sure myself," Janus began when he was certain Rins was really not about to shoot a million holes in him. "It all happened so fast... You've heard about all the recent rioting, haven't you?"

"Yes... but here? In Lork? Backwater town, population twenty thousand?"

"Well..."

Rins raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

Janus sighed. "There've been rumors lately, about another revolutionary group beginning to build up around this town... Sephy sent me in to investigate, and try to keep things from boiling over."

"Another revolutionary group..." murmured Rins.

"Yeah, well, I guess the townspeople kinda weren't too happy with my presence... Though I thought things were going okay... But then this morning it all just kind of exploded. It's been spreading throughout the entire town since then."

"Knowing you, they probably weren't too happy with you flirting with every single girl you came across," Rins said dryly. After a pause, she added, "... Couldn't you have just roped them all up with your wire things?"

"Exelion doesn't have _that_ many wires attached!" protested Janus. "I knocked out a bunch of them, but Exelion's a mid-range attack weapon -- it's hard for me to maneuver in such close areas without killing anyone, and they just kept coming... They were gonna rip me apart, I swear."

"I believe you," she said, eyeing his torn clothing. "Well... what are we going to do now?"

"Dunno. I lost my cell phone and my communicator somewhere in the crush. I'm not sure what's happened to my backup team."

Rins looked away. "In all probability, most of them are already dead by now."

"What? They were all armed --"

"One man with a gun can't do anything against a large, angry mob. Not unless your name's Train Heartnet," she amended. She softened her voice slightly. "Believe me, Janus, I saw..."

Janus slammed his fist against a building. "Shit!"

And then he looked up, his face contorting strangely. "Shit, Rins, we've gotta get out of here."

She had smelled it too. Smoke.

"They're burning everything down," Rins said, in disbelief.

He grinned fiercely. "Yeah. Let's get going."

He grabbed her hand.

"Wait, Janus -- but where?"

"We can figure out something later. Come on!"

They broke out into a run.

"Because I think I know a place," she shouted into the wind. "This town... the Bagil Lakefront properties are just a few miles away. I know someone with a place there!"

"A lake? Oh good, that means I'll get to see you in a swimsuit --"

And for the first time that day, Rinslet broke out into a genuine smile.

_**Tsuzuku**_

* * *

Whew. I knew exactly how I wanted things to play out, but it was kind of hard to actually write. Obviously first of all, the tone is very different from the last chapter, since Rins and Sephiria are very different women, and in very different situations at the moment. I tried to handle it as realistically as possible... esp. the overall feeling of chaos and confusion, but still kind of worried about how it turned out. Riots are NOT easy to handle. Also tried not to go overboard on the accent, though I'm not sure how successful I was there. :P 

And uh, "Rins-babe" was the cheesiest equivalent in English I could think of to "Rins-chan." XD (And here I just cannot resist adding: Rins and all the other girls were so much hotter in the manga... XP Same goes for the men, really, but they're at least tolerable. Snort.) Janus was surprisingly not as easy to write as I expected; it's something I never really noticed before, but I think it's because a good portion of his characterization actually depends on his facial expressions and body language, which is harder to express in a faster-paced/dialogue-dependent scene in writing.

Re: Exelion and Ecthelion -- Not sure what the correct spelling is, but I chose Exelion because calling a weapon by a Tolkien Elvish name is just plain weird. To me, anyway.

Also, a quick note: as much as I dislike the anime, I _will_ be using the names Wikipedia lists (that were apparently made up for the anime) for Nos. III, VI, IX, and XII, who were never shown in the manga. Not the characters themselves as they show up in the anime (for instance, XII in my story is NOTHING like Mr. Wise Old Mustachioed Dude), but just the names, because I'm terrible with making up names, and these are fun names to play with.

Anyhow, next up is Eve!


	3. Tremors Arc: Eve 1

**Disclaimer applies.**

**Notes: **Yay, Black Cat scanlations are finally complete! (Stoptazmo has them, I think) And... I eat my words! No. XII did show up in the manga, at the very end, for about three pages. I must have skipped over them when skimming through the raws about a year ago. (I adore this scene, btw. It practically makes Sephiria/Belze canon. XD) Ah well. XII in my story will still have my own spin (versus the decidedly strange anime take), as we really don't see enough of him to have a good grasp of his "canon" character.

* * *

**Elegy  
**_Chapter Three  
(Eve)_

It was a week after Creed's defeat when Eve finally reminded her two (irresponsible, giddy-drunk from victory) partners that she still had one last promise left to fulfill.

It was another week, after much hassle over arrangements and procrastination, before they finally found themselves once again upon the porch of that secluded house on the lakefront, looking for its owner.

"... Think she's cooking again?" mumbled Train in a comically worried tone.

"Do _you_ smell anything?" returned Sven, his face displaying a ridiculous pinched look.

"I don't smell anything," said Eve, just as a bespectacled figure emerged from within. Her two partners let out their breaths rather conspicuously, but the new arrival did not notice.

"Ah, Mr. Sven, Mr. Train, Eve!" the woman exclaimed delightedly. "I see your mission was successful."

Eve smiled. "Hello, Professor Tearju."

- - -

Eve sat at the edge of the lake, dangling her legs in the water as she flipped through a thick scientific tome. She had already read this particular book before -- it had been the first she'd picked up when she had come to the professor's -- but she had finished plowing through all the books the professor owned by now. And as redundant as it might seem with her remarkable memory, she had found that she didn't mind -- even enjoyed -- rereading as much as she enjoyed the experience of a first read.

It was very calming, here in this place. Just the other day she had found herself imagining... if she were to stay there forever, absorbed within her books, not a care in the world.

For the Bagil Lakefront properties were indeed beautiful, quiet and secluded and serene. It was easy to see why the professor had chosen to dwell here. Here, there were no disturbances from the outside world, and everywhere one turned one was surrounded by nature, both subtle and breathtaking. She hadn't seen a single soul aside from the professor and herself since Train and Sven had wandered off a month ago, almost immediately after their arrival, leaving her to her questions and all the things Tearju wished to speak to her of. For Eve's questions were many, and Tearju's tale long and rambling, and all that had to be spoken could not be finished within one night, and there were some days the professor was so distracted that she completely forgot about Eve.

And so the days had passed, here in this otherworldly setting, almost as if Eve were in a dream. Over time, one could almost forget that there was a world beyond this place...

-- Dangerous thoughts, those.

For while Eve was more than certain the professor would be only too pleased to let her stay even after all that must be said had been said, she knew also that someday, perhaps tomorrow, perhaps years from now, she would wake up with that strange unnamable feeling of something missing, of something unfulfilled. Already she had begun to miss Sven's familiar harassed grumpiness and Train's raucous, childish outbursts. It was something she had known deep inside her heart, long before she began to understand it, ever since Train and Sven had opened her eyes and rescued her from Torneo's mansion: never again would she allow herself to be trapped within a bubble-world, separated from reality. She was not alone -- there were other people in the world, people she cared for, people who cared for her, people suffering at the hands of other people. And she could not, _would_ not simply turn the other cheek and let herself forget about them, even here in this place where it seemed sometimes as if she were the last living being on the planet.

And so she knew the time would come when she would leave.

Her talks with Professor Tearju were drawing to an end, she knew. The talks had been fascinating, in a strange, almost morbid way -- Tearju's stories of her childhood, her dreams and her wild imagination, her university years, her years working for Torneo. It seemed sometimes almost as if Eve were gazing into a mirror at herself and yet not herself, a mirror reflecting what-ifs and could-have-beens, who she was and who she wasn't.

There remained now only the tale of the development of Project Eve -- the tale of her creation, her birth.

Eve knew that Tearju had been holding off on telling her this part of the story, for reasons she could easily guess. She had considered confronting the professor about it -- though she could not deny that feeling near approaching dread within her heart every time she thought of the subject, that strange morbid curiosity insisted that she must know and face the truth. In the end she had opted for patience (she was _nothing_ like selfish, impatient Train, after all), and it seemed her patience was finally going to pay off. Tearju had mumbled absentmindedly just that morning about "something important you need to know" before wandering into her lab to check on her experiments. Eve, recognizing the clear signs of when to leave the professor alone, had taken the book she now flipped through from the bookshelf and come out by the lake.

The afternoon was dimming now, and Eve closed the book and headed back to the house.

As she neared the house, she paused suddenly, tensing. A tall, black-clad figure stood in the doorway, peering inside.

Quietly, cautiously, she approached.

A few feet away, she stopped again, readying herself, and said, "Who are you?"

The figure -- a man wearing a top hat over his long, blond hair -- turned, looking vaguely surprised, then composed himself, offering her a charming smile. "Is the professor in? I would like to speak to her."

And then he frowned, peering more closely at her through his dark glasses.

Eve stared, then finally managed to open her mouth. "Charden?"

The man's frown grew deeper, then melted back into a smile, though this one somewhat drier than the previous. "Ah, I thought you looked familiar. You're that little girl who was with Train Heartnet, aren't you? What are you doing here? Still with the Black Cat?"

Eve continued staring at him, uncertain. Although he _had_ left the Apostles of his own free will, and Kyoko _had _seemed to have been fond of him (though Eve suspected the girl was fond of any dashing male specimen of the human species), he _had_ still been supportive of the ideals and goals he had thought Creed upheld and was perpetuating. Not that she was altogether certain what those ideals were.

"I am visiting Professor Tearju," she said, then paused, considering. "I last saw her heading into her lab, but I do not know if she is still there."

Charden chuckled. "I see. A solemn little princess. Now, are you going to invite me in, so we can find the good professor, or do I have to stand here all night in the cold?"

For that, Eve glared at him. Still, he hadn't attempted to enter before, despite the door being wide open -- though perhaps she had simply come upon him before he could do so.

She pushed past him and into the house. "Come in."

Something felt strange. Charden must have noticed her tense, because he stopped in his admiration of the professor's taste in furnishings and said, "What's wrong?"

Eve frowned, then glanced at him. "I... it's too quiet." She ran towards the stairs that led to the basement laboratory.

No one was there.

Eve stood deathly still. Could the professor have wandered off somewhere, in her absentmindedness? Went shopping for groceries, perhaps? But that couldn't be. Professor Tearju became an utterly different person when she immersed herself in her work, focused and intense and efficient, not at all like her usual rambling clumsiness.

Charden had by now caught up. "You're sure she was working here?"

"Yes, I'm positive."

"I see." Charden sighed, and touched the bridge of his nose where his glasses had been. "I came too late."

Eve frowned yet again. "What do you mean?" she demanded, trying to keep calm.

But before the man could answer, the sound of shouting upstairs at the front door came drifting down to them. Eve clambered upstairs, getting ready to form her hair into a mallet.

"Eve! What are you doing here?"

"Hey, it's that cute little girl who was with Heartnet!"

"Eve, where's that bastard? Is he here? Where's the professor?"

Eve stared. "... Rins?"

The thief was with who she recognized as one of the Numbers -- Seven, she thought, though his name escaped her. Both of them looked weary and bedraggled.

"Train and Sven aren't here," said Eve. "And the professor's disappeared."

It was Rinslet's turn to stare. "What?"

Number Seven simply looked bewildered. And then he blinked. "What the hell is _he_ doing here?"

"Who?"

"Charden Flamberg, former Apostles member!"

Eve turned to see Charden watching the proceedings, somewhere between amused and annoyed, one slim eyebrow raised. "My pleasure, miss," he said now, sweeping off his top hat and bowing. "Number... Seven."

Rinslet now looked flustered and annoyed. The Number looked even more annoyed. Eve took the opportunity to speak up. "Yes, why are you here, Mr. Charden? What did you mean, 'I came too late'?"

Charden seemed rather hassled himself. He gestured to the sofas in the living room. "Come, let's have a civil discussion, shall we?"

Eve saw Rinslet open her mouth, about to protest, but then she seemed too exhausted, and resigned herself to walking over and plopping down on the softest seat. The rest of them followed suit. Eve tried to sort out her thoughts. Too much was happening, and it was all whirling around in her head. It was at times like this that she envied Train's simple, one-track mind. Not that she would ever admit that.

"Well," Charden was saying now, "seeing as how both the infamous lady thief and a Chronos Number have made their ways to this area, I suppose we all have some idea of what is going on here. Except, of course, for -- Eve, was it? -- here, unless the Black Cat told you something of recent circumstances."

_Train is a simple-minded dunce who doesn't notice or care about things like this... whatever "this" is_, she was about to say, even though she knew it was not entirely true, but Rinslet interrupted.

"No, I _don't_. It was only because my stupid car broke down, and then I had to walk all the way to Lork when a _riot_ of all things started and I somehow ran into that idiot over there" -- she pointed at the Number -- "and we escaped together and I headed here because it was the closest place I could think of even though I've never actually been here before, and I was hoping to talk that professor woman into letting us stay, and ARGH. This has been the WORST day of my life!"

To Eve's, and Number Seven's, great surprise, Rinslet then burst into laughter. "Ah, I feel much better now. Almost as good as I'd feel if I could find someone to beat up right now..."

Number Seven inched almost imperceptibly away from the thief.

"So it's come to this already," murmured Charden thoughtfully. "Well, I'm not terribly clear about what's going on either," ("Sure you aren't," muttered the Number), "but rumors have been flying around recently regarding revolutionary activity centering around this area. Lork, eh? I never would have guessed. At any rate, I received information yesterday from certain reliable sources of mine that a certain Professor Tearju Lunatique was being targeted. For what reason," Charden shrugged elegantly, "I have no idea." ("Sure you don't.") "Naturally, I immediately headed here to warn her -- Well, perhaps you may have a better idea of why they were after the professor, Eve."

Eve, of course, had a pretty good idea by now why Professor Tearju had been targeted, or at the very least, a pretty good guess. As did Rinslet, she suspected, by the look on the woman's face.

Before, she had been feeling too overwhelmed to think straight. But now everything had become clear to her.

She shook her head in answer to Charden's query, deciding to maintain caution, and gripped at her skirt.

"We have to go save her," she said.

_**Tsuzuku**_

* * *

Next chapter will be Sephiria again. (The order will not always be like this.)

Updating will probably be slow... I tend to be a _very_ slow writer (the first two chapters were a fluke :P), and I would like to finish my other multi-parter first. Check my profile periodically to know where I am and what I'm up to.


	4. Tremors Arc: Sephiria 2

**Disclaimer applies.**

* * *

**Elegy  
**_Chapter Four  
(Sephiria)_

The call came late in the night, just as their emergency planning session drew to an end.

"Number Seven, reporting in," came the unmistakably irreverent voice over the phone, and Belze looked at her as she stood with a start.

"Janus!"

"Sorry, Sefi. Got myself in a bit too deep."

"Is this line secure?" Sephiria nodded at Belze and pressed the speaker button. "I assume you lost your cell."

"Yeah. As secure as it can be." Janus muttered something about paranoid scientist women.

"Where are you right now?"

"Um, listen, Sefi, I've gotta make this quick. I don't trust that bastard, and he's been looking at me funny all night."

Sephiria waited.

"Remember that crazy professor lady you had us look up a while ago? Tearju Lunatique?"

Project Eve, she thought. _Heartnet_.

"Yeah, well, I'm at her place right now. Except she's not here, because she's been abducted, apparently."

_Abducted_?

Belze interrupted, voicing the question on both their minds. "Number Seven, what does this have to do with the mission you were sent on?"

There was a pause, then a wry chuckle. "Should've known you'd be listening over Sefi's shoulder. Hey, Sefi, you still there? I think you were right. It was a real mess. I mean, there's not much I can say about it that I'm sure you don't already know. Things just kind of blew up, just like you said they would. But... I'm pretty sure they were the ones who wanted Lunatique."

"Pretty sure?"

"Yeah. You'll never guess who else is here with me." Janus laughed. "Charden Flamberg. Rinslet Walker. That little nanogirl."

Silence.

"Eve?" said Sephiria at last. "The one who was with Heartnet?"

"The one and only! She sure is growing into a looker! And Rins..."

"Charden Flamberg," said Belze. "He's one of the two I faced. One of the two who defected."

"Yes, I remember," said Sephiria. "Janus, be careful."

"Yeah, I know. I don't think he's one of them. But he's definitely up to something. Eve said he came to warn the professor lady. That's why I think it was them."

"You said Rinslet Walker is there as well? What was she doing in that area?"

"Oh, her car broke down. Hehe, must be fate..."

"What are you going to do next?"

"Well --" Janus began. "Oh, sh-- um, Sefi? Gotta run. Basically though, nanogirl wants us to get the prof back. I'll try to get in contact again tomorrow --"

Click.

"Flamberg's a cunning one," said Belze. "The only one of them who had any brains."

Sephiria said nothing for a while. "I suppose now we can set those plans aside as backup."

A few more moments of silence.

"Go get some sleep."

She nodded. "Good night."

- - -

_She dreams of roses. Velvety red petals, the deep color of wine, falling from the sky in a scarlet storm. Skin soaked in blood and heads flying and spinning all around, faces frozen in grotesque masks, half rotten and crawling with maggots._

She woke to find her heart beating madly and her hand clenching at the nonexistent handle of a nonexistent sword. She did not dream often -- none of the Time Guardians did -- and the strangeness of it left her unsettled and confused. She felt at her side for Christ, found it lying nearby where she always kept it, fingered the hilt and stood. As she dressed and poured herself a cup of tea, there was a knock on her door, and she knew even before she opened the door that it was Belze.

"Tea?" she said, though she knew he preferred coffee.

He stayed in the hall instead of stepping through the doorway, and shook his head. "I meant to ask you earlier..."

"Hm?"

"What exactly did the Elders say to you?"

"The Elders? They were worried. As to be expected. Things have been unsettled ever since --"

"That's not what I meant."

She looked at him.

"When you returned. While you were recuperating."

"Oh, that?" She shrugged delicately. "I suppose they just wanted to confirm the reports with me firsthand. Rumors were flying, and they were impatient for the truth."

"The truth," he repeated, then frowned. "That was all?"

"What else would they have come for? Certainly not concern over my health?" she said gently, though she regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth.

He shifted, tilted his body to the side. "I am sorry for disturbing you."

But before he could leave, she reached out and placed a hand on his arm. "Come in. I can make coffee."

He came in and she made coffee and they sat in silence for a while.

"Do you remember..." murmured Sephiria, after some time, as she mulled over her tea. Then she looked up and brushed a strand of hair from her face. "Rinslet Walker. Her entering into the picture may be a stroke of luck for us."

"I wonder. If it were anyone but Number Seven, perhaps."

She had to smile at that. "No, it's because it's Janus that it will work out. Both Rinslet and the little princess are wild cards, but I think they will not be to our disadvantage."

"You know something."

"Yes," she said, and she smiled again. "It may be that my memory is at fault, but perhaps you will remember more clearly than I. Do you recall the file you had compiled for me?"

Belze looked at her in realization. "I do remember. Xiaoli looked into her quite thoroughly, but there were pieces of her background even he was unable to uncover. Specifically, the details of her childhood. The most he could find on anything that happened before she turned thirteen was too vague to be of much use. But the one thing he did confirm --"

Sephiria nodded. "Her hometown."

"Then you think that her presence in this mess may be more than mere coincidence."

"Perhaps," she admitted.

"What will you do?"

"There's not much I can do from Janus's side now. Though I may have to call back Xiaoli, and move the Quarters after all." She paused. "How is Maison, by the way?"

"The old man? Nosy and arrogant as ever."

She laughed then, and she could see Belze attempt to hide a smile. It was hard to remember, sometimes, that Belze and Maison had been Numbers long before she had ever even heard of Chronos. Harder yet to believe that Maison alone survived now, of that war twenty-five years ago. Even in times of relative peace it was practically unheard of, for a Time Guardian to survive to that man's age. Those who lived even to Belze's age were rare enough.

No, the Chronos Numbers started young, and died young. That was the way of things.

Still, Heartnet had been the youngest. Barely eighteen, barely a man. Even she, prodigy that she was, had been nearing twenty when she first took up the mantle of leadership. And then only because of scandal, unforeseen complications, unexpected death. Heartnet had been the first appointment she'd made, almost two years after her own formal induction into the Guardians. The first and only Number Thirteen.

"I wonder if he will let himself get dragged into our affairs this time?" she mused out loud, and she knew from the look on Belze's face that he knew she did not speak of Maison.

But before he could answer, there was another knock on her door, and this time she opened it to find a messenger on the other side.

She sighed, and wordlessly handed the note to Belze, who stood as he finished reading it.

"Should I go with you?"

"It's all right. They like you about as much as you like them. I'll talk to them myself."

A plan was beginning to form in her mind, and it surprised her in how uncharacteristic it was of her. But the pieces were beginning to move, and she could not afford to waste any more time, or remain anything less than flexible in her strategy.

- - -

"That Janus! Fucking useless bastard! Heard he's gone missing, eh? Probably dead -- he sure had it coming to him!"

"Let us go. We can take care of it."

"Heh. All we'll need is an hour, Captain. We'll have them on their knees, screaming for mercy. Let's see who'll have the guts to go around bitchin about Chronos then!"

The two looked at her expectantly, and the air seemed to throb with heady anticipation. But Sephiria said nothing, and looked back at them coolly.

Baldor slammed his fists down on the table between them, leaned forward, glaring into her eyes. She could smell the coffee on his breath, and thought vaguely of Belze. "Fuck this! Sephiria --"

"Janus is still alive. This is his mission, and he will continue to handle it. I must ask you two not to interfere."

"Goddamnit!" Baldor swung a fist back as if to hit her, the table, the wall, anything. Kranz remained considerably quieter, but Sephiria sensed a tautness in him, and wondered what the blind man was truly thinking, underneath the silence.

"The Elders have not forgotten the mess you two made the last time you moved without orders," she said, slowly, deliberately. Nor had she. She'd managed to get the Elders to withhold their punishment until after Creed was taken care of -- Belga's death had made it more than clear that she could not risk losing two more of her men, no matter how unruly and incapable of following orders, for such a trivial reason. But immediately after Creed's death, the Elders had pronounced their sentence on the pair while she recuperated in a private, Chronos-run hospital. She did not know what their punishment had been.

But she did know that the two had been restless and chafing, for weeks now.

"What the hell? That bastard's the one who fucked up this time, and you still --"

"Baldor, let's go," said Kranz.

Baldor sneered and whirled around. "Fine."

Sephiria bit her tongue and watched them leave without a word.

Like fighting fire with fire, she thought. If she had calculated correctly...

Had it been anyone else, she would have worried everything would blow up on her when she was least expecting it. But there were some risks that had to be taken, and she knew Baldor and Kranz too well. They had grown up together. She alone they respected, albeit grudgingly. And loyalty to Chronos had been hammered into them from the start, was too deeply ingrained within them now, after more than twenty years. Fighting was all they knew, all they had. She understood that. She would give them that.

Let the game begin, she thought wryly, though it was never a game, had never been a game, would never be a game. Not to her. Never to her.

_**Tsuzuku**_

* * *

Updates will be slow and according to my own pace. I'll also eventually be editing and reformatting to put up on my own site. Also, I think this will be the last Sephiria chapter for a while. The action will be shifting to mostly Rins for a while, or maybe Eve (not sure yet how I'm going to be moving the pieces around), while Sephiria waits behind the scenes and watches things unfold. :P 


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